


Let's Make It Official

by pherryt



Series: Invisible Wings [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Mating, Dean gets to find out how sensitive wings really are, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Ritual, Sam Is Scarred For Life, Shipper Sam, Smut, Wing Kink, Wing sex, but he's also the best brother ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 18:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11087442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: After Cas's wings have healed, Dean just assumed that everyone could see them now. After all,hecould.Instead, it turns out, Sam thinks his brother has gone crazy for reacting to something that isn't there.  After a discussion about Cas's wings, some surprising things come out and Sam helps them do something about it.





	Let's Make It Official

**Author's Note:**

> This was SUPPOSED to be a goofy one shot sequel to Heal Thy Wings...a sequel that fits between this and The Angel's New Clothes. (but any of these can be read as stand alones)
> 
> It didn't want to be that way, apparently.
> 
> Thanks go to [ Jdragon122 ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jdragon122) for giving this a look earlier today! Much appreciated :D I'm always nervous writing ANY kind of smut and this is a little different then the norm, so having someone look it over first is an IMMENSE help. 
> 
> NOTES: translations and extras at the end
> 
> *EDIT* Added art :D

 

Dean didn’t think anything of it at first. Cas’s wings were back – black and blue and all sorts of shimmery kinds of beautiful. And huge. It would take a while to learn how to walk around them. Cas didn’t even seem completely conscious of them. They spread and brushed along the walls as he walked beside Dean. They folded in when they went through narrow doorways. They flowed behind him as he turned, loose and open, causing Dean to duck or sidestep out of the way. He sometimes would end up grabbing Sam’s arm and halting him from moving forward, preventing either of them from getting a concussion from the buffeting those big ass wings could surely provide.

All in all, Cas was mesmerizing to look at. He’d been mesmerizing enough on a good day, and now, with the added bonus of those now visible and incredibly massive appendages, Dean couldn’t take his eyes off him - could barely restrain the twitch of his fingers, the urge to run his fingers through the mass of silky feathers, to dig into the glands at the base of Cas’s wings and release that delicious, not to mention convenient, oil.

This was going to prove problematic once they got back to hunting, wasn’t it? Fuck, Dean groaned, as he clutched his fingers around his cup and tried so goddamn hard  _ not  _ to ravish his Angel in front of his brother.

With all that going on, it took a while for Dean to notice the strange looks Sam was giving him.

“What, Sammy?” Dean demanded finally, irritation heavily laden in his voice.

“Dean, are you on drugs?” Sammy asked tentatively.

“What the fuck? No!” Dean said. “I mean, other than the usual shit when we get hurt, not that we really need that all that much anymore with Cas around. But no! God, why would you ask that?”

“Look, I’m glad the two of you have gotten together and all that but…I think there’s something weird going on,” Sam insisted.

“Weird how?” Dean glared at him suspiciously.

“I don’t know – it’s like…like you’re seeing things that aren’t even there.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dean blinked at his brother. Before he could pursue the conversation any further, Castiel wandered into the map room of the bunker, a stack of books in his hands. He walked through the center of the doorway, his big black wings squeezing close to his body to make it through too, before spreading wide on the other side.

Dean mused how odd it was that Cas’s wings seemed somehow constrained by the walls of their environment, yet didn’t seem to react much with other objects in their way. But Dean knew that he sure as hell could feel those wings – he tried to hold back the whimper of the memories of their caress from the night before – and when Cas stepped up beside him and placed the books on the table, turning to pull out a chair and drop into it, Dean leaned out of the way before ducking in past the wing, shifting his chair closer to Cas.

The Angel smiled at him and leaned in for a kiss. Dean smiled back and leaned forward to meet him, their lips touching –

“That! That’s what I’m talking about!” Sam shouted, pointing at Cas and Dean, who had violently pulled apart at Sam’s outburst.

“That what?” Dean gritted out. “I’m still as much at a loss as I was before, Sam.”

“When Cas sat down you…you moved like there was something around him, reacted like you were about to get hit in the head. Tell me that’s not weird? Are you hallucinating? Cas, is there something wrong with my brother?” Sam’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit, there is, and you’ve been keeping it from me.”

“Sam, I think it’s my turn to ask if you’re on drugs,” Dean said with exasperation. “I’m not on drugs and I’m not dying. There’s nothing wrong with me, okay? I just – “ Dean’s eyes widened with realization and his head swung from Sam to Cas and back again. “Saaaam…Describe Cas for me, right now.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief, rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. “You want me to – okay, fine, whatever. Cas is sitting in his chair, wearing one of your shirts and a pair of ratty jeans which are also yours. His feet are bare, his dark hair is messy and he hasn’t shaved.”

Dean nodded at each point, but frowned when Sam finished. “Wait, that’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it?”

“I mean…you don’t see his wings?”

“Dean, even if I could see his wings, which has never happened once in the last nine years, the Angels fell. Their wings are broken,” Sam said gently with a sad look at Castiel. “Isn’t it a little insensitive to remind him of this? God, Dean, I thought better of you.”

Sam stood up, the most disappointed look on his face. Dean’s mouth gaped before he finally managed to splutter out a few words. “What? Fuck! Is that what you think of me? God, Sam, no!”

Dean’s mouth worked soundlessly a few more times as he tried to explain. Cas took pity on him and looked at Sam, forestalling the younger brother from storming out of the room.

“Sam, it’s all right. Dean’s not being insensitive, neither is there anything wrong with him. It was a miracle,” Cas turned to look adoringly and wonderingly at Dean, “but my wings have returned, because of Dean. Because of our love for each other. Dean can see and interact with my wings. I keep forgetting this and I don’t control them as I ought. I am…used to letting them stretch out when I have the room.”

Sam sat slowly, stunned. “You’ve…you’ve got your wings back? That’s great Cas! I have to admit, though, I’m a bit jealous that I can’t see them though. They must be something really special. How big are they? Are they white? Do – “

“Whoa, whoa! Slow down there, slugger, Cas’s wings are not up for discussion,” Dean flushed as he remembered their antics just the night before. How sensitive Cas’s wings were, how turned on Cas got when Dean touched his wings, slid his fingers through his feathers, tugged and combed and –

“I’m sorry, Sam. Dean is right,” Cas’s gravelly voice broke into Dean’s increasingly less than innocent thoughts. “Only an Angel’s mate may see the full brilliance of their wings.”

Sam made a face as he thought about that. “But Cas, we’ve all seen – surely other Angels must see –“

“Wait, what?” Dean gaped at Castiel, surprised by that bit of news.

Cas ducked his head a little in embarrassment and nervousness. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spring that on you. An act as intimate as ours was, with full involvement of our wings is an act of trust, an act of, of mating. I consider you my mate, in the Angelic sense of the word, though without wings of your own, it wasn’t…it wasn’t completed, couldn’t have been completed, so you don’t have to – I won’t call you my mate if you would prefer me not to.”

Dean lunged forward and grabbed Cas’s face with both hands gently, lifting his head up so they could look each other in the eye. “If I had wings, I’d sure as hell make it official,” Dean whispered, before pressing his lips to Cas’s. Cas’s eyes rolled back and he moaned, his lips parting under Dean’s, his hands coming up to grip Dean’s forearms, pull him closer.

A throat cleared and a body shifted awkwardly causing them to pull away.

Dean didn’t go far, resting his forehead against his Angels’. “I would, you know, if I could find a way to make it complete, make it official. I don’t want to ever lose you again, man.”

Sam cleared his throat again. “Uh, guys…it might be possible.”

Dean’s head shot up, hope in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“It would be a temporary thing but it would last long enough to make everything…official, as you say.” Sam continued. “I found a spell in a book of Angel lore while we were digging up stuff on the potential Nephilim situation. It was rather useless for what we were looking for, so I ignored it but…”

“But…” Dean said hopefully, looking at Cas. Castiel looked up at him with shining eyes and that smile he reserved only for Dean.

“What is the risk to Dean?” Cas’s first priority, ever and always.

“Uh, I’ll have to find the book again, but I don’t recall any.” Sam stood up. “I think I remember where I left it. Be right back.” He took a step away, then stopped and turned back to point a finger admonishingly at them. “I’ll  _ be  _ right back, so don’t do… _ anything _ , okay?”

“Sure, Sam, no problem,” Dean smirked. Sam’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he turned away and took the few steps into the library, and disappeared. Dean looked over at Cas, the smirk gone. “If this works, what do I need to do?”

“Just, be with me. Give yourself wholly to me. The rest is instinct. You’ll know when it works,” Cas breathed in wonder

“How do you know, if you’ve never done this before?” Dean couldn’t help himself.

Cas shrugged, “Instinct, I guess. I know other Angels who’ve done it. It’s rare, but I talked with them some when it happened. I always wondered if there could ever be someone for me. After millennia, I’d given up all hope of that. After all, I was a broken Angel.”

“No, not broken, never broken. Haven’t we already proved that?” Dean breathed out, stroking Cas’s face, staring into those blue eyes he could never get enough of.

“You showed me that, Dean, but it doesn’t change the fact that I did believe it for so long,” Cas answered. “Just as you believed it of yourself.”

A book slammed down on the table and they jumped, turning to face Sam. Sam sent an apologetic smile their way and opened the book, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. But uh, thanks for not making out when I got back.” He flipped the pages and finally stopped a little past midway. “So get this, it’s a surprisingly simple spell, but apparently none of the Men of Letters ever got it to work.”

“Then how do you know it will for me?” Dean’s hopes fell and he slumped against Cas. Cas’s left wing slid along behind him, stretching out and curling around Dean’s arms, Cas secure in the fact that the only one who could see or feel them was the only one he wanted to see or feel them.

“Because, we have a component the Men of Letters didn’t. See, it only works for someone who’s using the feather of the Angel they love and who loves them in return. The feather has to be willingly given to be used in the spell,” Sam said smugly. “The rest is child’s play.”

“Well then, guess I’m getting married,” Dean grinned, dragging the book towards him, Cas leaning forward to look over his shoulder at the spell.

Sam shuddered. “Right. I’m gonna…take off. Let you guys have your honeymoon without me.”

“Sam, I’d recommend at least 24 hours,” Cas said solemnly.

“Got it. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be outta your feathers,” Sam said, backing out the room. With eyes only for each other, neither Dean nor Cas noticed.

“Angelica Root, Lavender, Mistletoe, your feather, our combined blood and an Enochian / Latin incantation? It really can’t get any easier than this, can it?” Dean beamed, hopping to his feet and pulling Cas along with him.  Cas tucked the book under his arm and went with him willingly.

Quickly, eagerly, the two of them made their way to the cabinet that held their most common spell components and gathered together the three herbs and the smaller of the spell bowls before heading straight for Dean’s room, passing Sam on the way.

He clapped Cas on the shoulder and hugged Dean. “Good luck, guys. Call me. But only if…if something goes wrong and you need my help. And if I don’t hear from you within 24 hours, I’m coming back in to make  _ sure  _ you’re all right. So uh, just keep that in mind, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll try not to scar you for life.” Dean returned the hug, patting Sam on the back.

“A little late for that, Dean, but I appreciate the effort anyway.” Sam let go, picked up his bag and jogged down the hallway and out of sight. A moment later, they heard the creak of the bunker door and Dean and Cas smiled at each other across the spell bowl.

The ingredients were gathered beside the bowl, the spell book opened next to it on the other side, a candle on either side of the small table in case anything wonky happened with the electricity in the bunker. That tended to happen when anything Angelic was going on, and Dean wasn’t taking any risks.

He pulled out his silver knife and nodded at Cas. Together, at each step, they chanted the spell, “Diligitis elasa biab en olapireta ta ol zir tua,” they both took up the herbs in their hands and dropped it into the bowl: Cas grabbed the Angelica Root and Lavender, while Dean tossed in the Mistletoe – he had to hold back a snort at that – then mixed them together with his finger.

“Oi pluma, liberaliter dluga, ita ome ut portentur,” their voices blended, deep and gravel, Castiel’s wings arching forward so he could easily pluck a feather from the blue-black mass of plumage. Running the feather through his hand, he gently placed it on top of the gathered herbs, then looked back up at Dean.

Dean settled his silver knife upon his palm, as Castiel’s Angel blade dropped into Cas’s hand and he rested it against his own, both leaning over so their hands hovered over the spell bowl. Another nod and they spoke, the third part, “Canilu cervarum ome adagit ge uls de deibus.”

They slid their blades across their palms for a shallow cut, just enough for three drops of blood each to drip out of their closed fists and splash against the feather.

Dean placed his knife down on the table and reached for the feather and used it to stir the herbs further as they spoke the last part together, “Ge vinculum, infractum, commoraturus aao a aoivee.”

Light flashed, pure white against his lids, forcing Dean to close them. He fell to his knees, pressed down under a heavy weight, hands catching at his elbows and gentling the fall. A sudden ripping sound was heard throughout the room, echoing sharply in his ears.

“Dean! Dean, are you all right?” Cas’s voice, worried and panicked cut through the ringing in his ears. Dean struggled to open his eyes, every nerve awake and aware, tingling and electric, surprisingly pleasant.

His eyes opened and he gasped. Cas was haloed in a riot of colors, his wings rippled with shades of blue he had never even dreamed existed, matched only by his eyes. If Dean had ever thought them fathomless before, he’d been wrong. As Dean continued to stare, gaping, Cas’s hair and feathers seemed to move and flow like they were caught in an underwater current.

“Holy fuck, I guess it worked,” Dean breathed, reaching a hand out to touch Cas’s face reverently.

“Are you in any pain?” Cas caught his hand and held it, the other still gripping Dean’s elbow. Dean shook his head slowly. The hand on his elbow loosened its grip and slid up his arm, over his shoulder and Dean blinked at the sudden, shuddering sensation, the shiver that ran through his body.

“What the fuck was that?” he gasped.

“Dean,” Castiel’s eyes were wide and not looking directly at him but at a place over Dean’s shoulder. No, over Dean’s head. No, Cas’s eyes were moving, roving all around as if he was – wait, the spell was going to give Dean wings. Everything else was pure side effect.

He twisted in place, trying to look and something heavy moved with him. If he’d been standing he’d have looked like a dog chasing his own tail, as it was Cas helped him up and stepped closer.

“You won’t see them like that. You have to think about it – but not think about it. Like you would if you were walking. Move them forward, the way you would move a hand or a foot,” Cas encouraged.

“It’s…it’s not that easy, Cas,” Dean grunted, brows furrowed in concentration.

Cas shook his head. “You’re trying too hard, you have to relax. Here, we’ll start slow.” Cas guided Dean to the mirror, the same mirror they’d used weeks ago, and turned him to face it. Dean stood gaping at the mirror, shreds of his shirt hanging off of him (that must have been the ripping noise from earlier, he realized) and watched Cas run his long fingers along the upper wing bone (whatever it was called, Dean had no fucking clue. He wasn’t a bird!) and it felt so strange that he could feel that too. It sent a tingling sensation through his body. Gently, Cas urged Dean’s wing to open up, to extend and Dean’s eyes widened at the sight of the mottled brown and gold wings that stretched behind him.

“Wow…” Dean’s voice was barely audible in his awe. “Dude, where’s my phone?”

Cas paused. He blinked. “Your phone? Why would you want your –“

“Cas, babe, I  _ have  _ to get a picture of this. It’s not everyday you get a brand-new set of badass wings – at least, not if you’re human. And the spell is supposed to be temporary. I need a picture. Wait…will I be able to take a picture?”

“I’m not sure. They’re not the same as Angel wings. They’re not made of Grace, though…” Cas squinted at them, running his fingers through them again, causing Dean to gasp and lean back against the Angel, “though there seems to be a trace of Grace in them. But mostly, this gorgeous plumage is from your soul, Dean.”

“Cas, you touchin’ my soul?” Dean’s words were slurred, his eyes drooping, his wings reaching back to touch Cas, the blue-black wings of the Angel reaching down to meet the golden-brown feathers of Dean’s wings and caress them, the feathers mingling together. Dean gasped again.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Cas murmured into Dean’s ear as the man arched back, his head falling onto Cas’s shoulder.

“And…your wings…your wings are your Grace? I been touchin’ your Grace a-a-all this time?” Dean panted and Cas’s eyes slipped closed as he buried his face into Dean’s neck. Reaching out with his other hand, Cas barely had to touch Dean’s other wing for it to unfurl and arch back into Cas’s wing, both men shuddering at the sliding, silky touch.

Something warm dripped slowly down Dean’s back, and he felt Cas mouthing at his neck, shifting to lick his way to the base of Dean’s wings. To the glands there. Cas’s tongue dragged through the oil slicking Dean’s back and Dean whimpered at the sensation. Whimpered again at the hungry groan breathed into his skin.

“Cas,” he whispered, the name choked off when he let out a cry when he felt Cas burying his fingers in Dean’s feathers, spreading the oil. Dean stared in the mirror as both sets of wings, their feathers gleaming wetly, rubbed against each other. Blue black feathers poking between the golden-brown feathers, each rub, each slide caused Dean’s dick to pulse and harden.

Dean’s wings strained backwards to meet Cas’s, as if they weren’t already touching as close as they could, Cas’s reached forwards and wrapped around Dean’s. Dean whimpered, feeling Castiel’s’ clothed erection against his ass. Dean hands scrabbled behind him to grab ahold of Cas, anywhere he could. One clenched on Cas’s jeans, dragging him forward, the other reached over his head to tug in the messy dark locks atop Cas’s head. Dean didn’t even need to urge him forward, Cas was already nipping his way along Dean’s throat, across his jaw, the scruff on the Angels face a soothing counterpart to the smooth slide of rustling feathers.

Lips met lips, and Dean and Cas exchanged gasping kisses.

Dean couldn’t ever remember being so turned on in all his life. What was amazing was the fact that he still had his jeans on and the remnants of his shirt, while Cas was still completely clothed. There was nothing touching his dick except the tight confines of his jeans and boxers. Nothing penetrated him, only teased.

But he felt like he was mere moments away from coming. Their bodies rocked together, his knees weak and threatening to give out from under him, but somehow, the interlocking of fragile feathers held him up.

“Fuuuuck,” the sound dragged out of his throat between kisses. Each feather must have a thousand nerve endings. Every one of them was sending remarkable sensations, tingling, buzzing, hot and pulsing along their lengths, each one igniting inside him till he felt ready to burst.

In fact, he thought he had, tiny fireworks lighting up the room, each flickering set of sparks rippling through from every point of contact between the Angel's wings and his own. Every rub *spark* every slide *spark* of each feather, every thrusting *spark* jerking motion *spark* of the wings as they looked like they were battling to occupy the same space, sent more and more sparks gliding down both sets of wings till they exploded in colorful arrays out of each feathery tip and against his eyes.

Even closed, he could see the flickering colors and tiny explosions. They became faster as the wings grew frantic against each other. The room was filled with needy groans, desperate whines and rustling feathers and Dean couldn’t tell anymore who made which sound. Their mouths met again in a sloppy, wet kiss, nearly more panting and gasping then actual contact.

Cas’s hands left off combing through Dean’s wings and slid down around his shoulders instead: one wrapping around Dean’s chest, their combined efforts succeeding to pull each other as close together as clothing would allow. Cas’s other hand brought Dean’s head around to more easily meet Cas’s thrusting tongue. The kisses grew deep once again, Cas swallowing Dean’s moans and Dean devouring Cas’s.

The sparking lights flared as bright as day and Dean’s grip in Cas’s hair tightened, yanking Cas away from his mouth while Dean tipped his head back, exposing his neck and screaming out, his whole body stiffening in pure orgasmic bliss. Cas rutted against him, against Dean’s ass, his teeth grazing Dean’s neck, biting down, just barely breaking the flesh there, his eyes rolling as the waves of pleasure washed through him seconds later, Cas stiffening against Dean, the lights sparking and flaring to life again briefly before they were both plunged into darkness.

Dean slumped bonelessly in Castiel’s arms, and only Angelic reflexes kept them both from collapsing to the ground. Cas managed to get them on the bed, carefully arranging Dean and his wings into a side position before Cas curled up before him and drew Dean into his arms.

Dean’s heart was racing and the front of his jeans were wet.

Then again, so was Cas’s.

With a swipe of his hand down each of their bodies, Cas removed their wet and ruined clothing, leaving them naked atop Dean’s bed.

Gently, he pressed a kiss into Dean’s hair, along his brow, his temple, down his jaw and over his exposed neck till his lips met the bite he’d made. He laved at it gently with his tongue, feeling the indents of his teeth, tasting hints of blood. That had surprised Cas. He hadn’t expected that, to  _ do  _ that. Dean whimpered at the contact but relaxed into Cas’s arms easily.

“That was the strangest, and most fulfilling orgasm I’ve ever had,” Dean finally managed.

“That’s because our Grace and Souls were involved,” Cas breathed the answer against Dean’s neck, the words slightly muffled because of it. He kissed the bite gently and carded his fingers through Dean’s spiky and much mussed hair.

“You sayin’ we’ll never feel this good again? I mean, Christ, I came in my pants like a goddamn teenager. Is that what it always feels like for you when I play with your wings?”

“Yes,” Cas said simply.

“Holy fuck. No wonder you go crazy over it,” Dean said in wonder. “I think my feathers were more sensitive than my dick!”

They lay in silence, basking in the afterglow, Dean’s hands smoothing up and down Cas’s ribs. “I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas finally said, breaking the quiet moment. Dean pushed back a little to look at Cas.

“Sorry for what?”

“I bit you,” Cas said sadly, his fingers brushing the bite.

“Dude, Cas, it’s fine. I liked it. Not gonna lie, didn’t expect it from you but…” Dean gave a lopsided shrug.

“But Dean, I hurt you! I drew blood!” Cas protested.

“You also made me feel absolutely fantastic, babe. I’m gonna miss having feathers if this is what it feels like with you.” Dean sighed. He pushed his head forward again, tucking himself under Cas’s chin. “So, did it work? Are we Angel mated now? I mean, not that I’d mind if we have to do it a few more times, but I’m uh…kinda anxious to know if it worked or not.”

“It worked,” Cas said with awe. “Dean, it worked.” A giggle forced its way out of Cas’s mouth and shook Dean. “It really worked…” Cas’s fingers left Deans hair and joined his other hand in cupping Dean’s face, cradling his jaw. “It worked…” he whispered again, lips dragging against Dean’s.

“Thank God!” Dean grinned back happily and smashed their lips together, both their eyes slipping closed, heedless of the combined glow they were giving off.

Suddenly, Dean broke the kiss and sat up. “Wait, how long does this spell last?”

Cas sat up slowly beside him. “I don’t know, Dean. I’m actually surprised it worked seeing as the Men of Letters were never able to test it.”

Dean scrambled off the bed and kicked around for his jeans. “I need my phone. I need to…ah!” Dean was grateful that when Cas had mojo’d their clothes off, he hadn’t mojo’d them very far. He dug his phone out and sat back down on the bed with Cas, flipped it sideways and held it out. “I wanna get a pic of us, and our wings, before they’re gone. I wanna remember this.”

“Why Dean, are you being sentimental?” Cas teased as Dean struggled to get the right angle and still press the shutter.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled. “And don’t tell Sam. He’d just call me a sap.” His fingers found an automatic shutter on a timer and set it up.

“There’s nothing wrong with – “

“Just…don’t say it and smile for the camera. No, not like that Cas, a  _ real  _ smile.” Dean chided in exasperation. Cas turned to look at him, a soft smile playing around the edges of his lips. “Yeah, just like that.”

The camera snapped the picture. Dean turned and kissed Cas, as it continued to snap shots, Dean uncaring if the phone slipped out of focus or shook. Slowly the kiss deepened and the phone slipped from his hand, another few shots going off before the timer ended and the phone lay on the bed forgotten between them.

In the morning, Dean’s wings were gone, but the evidence of their presence remained. Several of his golden-brown feathers, carefully plucked, lay on his dresser besides several of Cas’s own. The photos, when they got around to checking them, showed Dean’s wings clearly and Cas’s hazily. The shadows of his wings becoming stronger and more apparent when the kiss had deepened, when their wings touched. They didn’t show off the true glory of Cas’s wings, but as uncertain as Cas had been that the camera would capture them at all, Dean was just grateful he managed to get that much.

He blushed when he realized it’d gotten a few more but hesitated to delete  _ those  _ pictures. Biting his lip and looking around guiltily, he downloaded them to his laptop and locked the folder.

And of course, there was the ever-present bite at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He hadn’t been lying when he said to Cas that he’d liked it. He hadn’t felt the break of the skin, just the pleasure of the bite. For such a small thing, though, when it healed it left a scar.

Cas apologized for it guiltily every time he saw it until Dean took his hands in his and shook his head. “Cas, you said the whole thing we would be going on instinct, right? And let me guess – how many Angel matings actually take place in corporeal form? You said you guys are ‘wavelengths of celestial intent’ right?”

“Did you just use air quotes?” Cas blinked.

“Never mind that, Cas, more important things.” Dean waved it off.

“No, you did,” Cas said with glinting, narrowed eyes. “You said it looked stupid when I did that.”

“Pfft! What? No! I said it looked adorable!” Dean rolled his eyes, blushing. “Now back to the bite – I’m thinking, maybe it was all part of the deal, leaving your mark on me, to complete the mating.”

“But I already left my mark on you, a long time ago,” Cas said, placing his hand over the grace imprint of his hand, no longer visible to the naked eye, a jolt running through Dean’s body when he did, as it always did when Cas touched him there.

“Yeah, you’re right, besides…I didn’t get a chance to leave one on you,” Dean said sadly.

“Dean, you have. Every ounce of my Grace has been indelibly marked by your soul. I can feel it every day, every moment, whether we’re together or not.” Cas assured him.

“Then maybe  _ that’s _ why you bit me,” Dean grinned. “I  _ can’t _ feel you in my soul, not now my wings are gone. I’m only human. But now I can  _ see  _ it, and that makes me happy.”

When Sam returned 24 hours after he left, he was disappointed not to have seen Dean’s wings. He however wished he could scrub his eyes out with bleach for everything else he  _ did  _ see.

“Oh, for the love of – I  _ told  _ you when I’d be coming back!” Sam stormed out, clasping his hands over his ears and trying  _ not  _ to hear their combined orgasmic sounds.

It didn’t work.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The Spell was SUPPOSED to be full on Enochian but there were quite a few of the chosen words that didn't actually exist (according to the translator I used). [kittenbot ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenbot) suggested that since it was designed to give a human a temporary set of wings, that it would make sense that the spell would be a mix of Angel/Human languages. So i tossed the untranslatable words through the Latin translator.
> 
> I know that in a language sense of the word, just throwing things through the translator may sound funky, but I get what i want in the end - something that looks and sounds cool. The translation is (line by line as spoken)
> 
> Love you are my light as I am yours  
> This feather, freely given, so we might soar  
> Blood binds us to our end of days  
> Our Bond, unbroken, will reside among the stars.
> 
> (Kinda cheesy, i know...)
> 
> Words I could not find in Enochian and thus replaced with Latin were:
> 
>  
> 
> Love, yours, feather, freely, so, might soar, binds, days, bond, unbroken, will reside
> 
>  
> 
> Also, i have recently decided that I do not like where I went for a translation and will probably not use that site again.
> 
>  
> 
> Also - bonus - from Jdragon122:  
> Hehe, well now Sam can make fun of both your "feathered asses" ;) 
> 
> Dean: "Sam, I'm not sulking!"  
> Sam: snickering "Of course not. You're nesting."  
> Dean: "Fuck you Sam."
> 
> Sam: "Hey Dean could you dust for me. We don't have a feather duster so -"  
> Dean: "Shut up, Sam!"
> 
>  
> 
> *EDIT* 11/12  
> Jdragon made me ART for this  
> Check it out - the official spread  
> 
> 
> and the um...unofficial version for Dean:  
> 
> 
> I'm still kinda embarrassed that i wrote that line buuuuut it's SUCH a Dean line to say! so I have no regrets.
> 
> thank you SOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH for such WONDERFUL art!


End file.
